Not Forever
by caffeineaddict13
Summary: He is whole and beautiful, and he loves her more than he will ever be able to say. Jacob/Bella.


**A/N:** Just a drabble. Procrastination. Because somehow, the Jacob in my head keeps telling me he has more to say.

**Disclaimer**: Pshaw.

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Jacob Black is not an idiot.

He knows that driving Bella around in her truck, holding her back while she struggles adorably to shift the gears on the motorcycle he built for her (always for her), being her teacher and her friend, her friend (always her friend), her tall dark werewolf friend; he knows that this will not make her like him.

Jacob Black is an idiot.

When she looks at him, his heart races infinitely in his chest, his breath comes out in gasps, even as he does his best not to show her. When she touches him, he knows she sees the muscles tightening under his brown skin, the sinewy veins contracting quickly under her cool hands. When she calls him sort of beautiful, (_she is beautiful lovely flawless how can she not see?_) his heart skips five beats and he thinks he might drop dead on the spot, but he smiles his Jacob smile, _her smile_, and laughs like he wasn't just thinking of how her lips would feel on his.

--

Jacob Black is not blind.

He can clearly see the holes in her chest, as blaringly obvious as if an electric drill had left these gaping, empty (never bloody, never scabbed, just empty, just scarred) empty empty spaces in her perfect pale pink skin. He knows not to say his name, but he screams it in his head, whispers it under his breath, _Edward Edward Edward EdwardEdwardEdward _pushed together and sliced through, angry cuts, deep cuts, the letters separating gruesomely from each other in his completely overpowering anguish. He imagines crushing the name in between his long, too-big fingers, pulverizing it with his teeth, but he never says it. He won't hurt her. _He won't he won't he won't_.

Jacob Black is blind.

He takes her hand like it is _not_ the most perfect thing in the world; he makes her laugh like it _doesn't_ pull strings on his heart. He imagines pressing her against a wall, stealing kisses, warm lips wet heat white legs skin on skin endless raw real. He pretends she's visiting him forhim, for _her Jacob_, not because it's convenient and he is fixing her bike. He sees love.

--

Jacob Black is not perfect.

He's too tall, and she needs to stretch her weak neck just to see him. His eyes are too dark, too hungry (too lovely too warm too pretty); her heart beats too fast when she looks at them. His hands are too big _rough soft warm against her skin forget it forget it forget it _and he is far too beautiful. He is too happy all the time, his smiles too wide, his lips too full. He's always laughing. Too too much.

Jacob Black is perfect.

How can he love her? She is broken, snapped in half like a porcelain doll. She will not be put back together. Her heart has been picked apart by millions of tiny hummingbirds, they're song slowly overtaking the quiet beating (JacobmyJacob JacobmyJacob). She teases him, she holds him, she kills him. He remains loyal and sweet and wraps his strong arms around her, promising to never let go.

--

Jacob Black is not her heart.

She presses her hand against her chest _yes it's still there just barely there don't lose it_ but she can't feel anything. He runs across the damp ground, his feet barely touching the grass, she watches with amazed eyes and she thinks I'm alive I'm alive that's my heart I can hear it beat one two one two one two as he disappears in the dark.

Jacob Black is her heart.

Then why does it follow him into oblivion? Why are its noises matches by his voice low deep husky hot in her ear why does it take life in his breath in his scent his wet-earth-smoke scent why does it growl at his touch? It screams when his face comes close to hers _if I could kiss those lips if I could taste that scent I need you I need you be mine_. He is her soul, her smile, her stitches. He puts her back together with the pure sound of his laugh. His hand in hers is the only thing holding her down—not gravity; there is no gravity, no sun or sky or space, no world at all except _him_.

--

Jacob Black is not broken.

He is whole and beautiful, and he loves her more than he will ever be able to say. He is hopelessly, recklessly in love. Adoringly, perfectly in love. _Love love love love_. He gets to see her every day, he gets to hold her tiny hand in his, he gets to laugh at her height and his age, at how many years it will take for him to catch up to him (how many years how many years until she is whole), he gets to watch her thin white fingers slide easily through his night sky hair. He gets to live.

Jacob Black is broken.

When she looks into his eyes, she is seeing someone else. Every day she mends and shifts, and every day it is just as painful to think of him, and he knows. He knows. They smile and laugh and he wants to kiss her _please let me kiss you_ and he is her Jacob but she is not his Bella. Will it ever be over? My heart shatters every time you think of him. _I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry_.

Jacob Black just wants to be loved.

Forever? Not forever. Just you. Just here. Just now.

--

**END**


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